


Some night (our hands will tremble from all this solitude)

by blackkat



Series: Agen Kolar prompts [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Pining, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: With a yelp, Kix comes awake, automatically grabbing for the closest solid object. His hands hit hard muscle, then something soft, and fist. There’s a hissed breath, but the arms holding him up don’t drop him, just wrap around him more tightly, and a low, careful voice says, “Peace. I was just moving you.”Over the pounding of his heart, Kix registers the fact that he has one hand knotted in long black hair, his face mashed into a dark-skinned throat. He sucks in a breath, breathes out, and manages, “GeneralKolar?”
Relationships: CT-6116 | Kix/Agen Kolar
Series: Agen Kolar prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941664
Comments: 25
Kudos: 555





	Some night (our hands will tremble from all this solitude)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Oooo, kix/agen and kix running himself ragged taking care of others and getting taken care of by agen?

Kix _isn't_ asleep at his desk. Technically. He just has his head down despairing over Torrent’s most recent mission report, potentially with his eyes closed. Given the mission report, it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction that anyone with sense would have. And if he’s maybe not as alert as he should be, well, Anakin ended up in the medbay again, barely hanging on after getting bitten by _something_ , and Kix was up late making sure he didn’t flatline _again_. There’s only so much caf can do for a body.

He doesn’t hear the door open. He doesn’t hear the quiet steps that cross the room, or see the shadow that falls over him. But he _definitely_ feels the way he’s suddenly scooped up off his stool and hauled up into the air.

With a yelp, Kix comes awake, automatically grabbing for the closest solid object. His hands hit hard muscle, then something soft, and fist. There’s a hissed breath, but the arms holding him up don’t drop him, just wrap around him more tightly, and a low, careful voice says, “Peace. I was just moving you.”

Over the pounding of his heart, Kix registers the fact that he has one hand knotted in long black hair, his face mashed into a dark-skinned throat. He sucks in a breath, breathes out, and manages, “General _Kolar_?”

Agen tilts his head, that long hair tugging at Kix's fist. Hastily, he opens his hand, and Agen makes a sound of thanks, though he doesn’t put Kix down. Instead, he carries him right out of the medbay, and Kix squawks. He jerks in Agen's hold, reaching back towards the doors as they shut, but Agen's grip doesn’t even _move_.

This is probably a bad time to remember just how strong Zabraks are compared to Humans, and all the vague thoughts Kix may have entertained about how far that strength extends.

Shoving those images down, Kix makes a concerted effort to wiggle out of Agen's hold. “General Kolar, what are you _doing_? I'm on shift—”

“Your shift ended six hours ago,” Agen says calmly, and steps into the lift at the end of the hall. “Lieutenant Cub told me. He’s taking over the end of your shift, and he and the ship’s medical personnel will split the next one as well.”

“What?” Kix says, bewildered, and then, as he realizes he’s still being cradled in Agen's arms, “Put me down!”

“No,” Agen says, and that’s calm too. “Captain Rex warned me about your inability to rest after a mission, and with Knight Skywalker still unconscious, it falls to me to take care of his men.”

Kix is going to have a hypo full of rare and unnecessary vaccines ready the next time Rex so much as pokes his nose into the medbay, he decides. With a huff, he sinks into Agen's hold, making himself as heavy as possible, and refuses to admire the fact that Agen's hands don’t even _shift_. “I was just fine—”

“You were asleep at your desk,” Agen says, not un-gently, and as the lift comes to a halt he passes through the doors and down a darkened hallway. “As you’ve told me more than once, beds are far superior for sleeping.”

“You were asleep _standing up_ , that doesn’t count—”

“Kix,” Agen interrupts, and shifts him into one arm to dial in a door code. “You need rest. Torrent’s mission and the aftermath were more than any one person should be expected to deal with.”

“There's still paperwork, though,” Kix says, even though he knows it’s futile. He twists a little to avoid banging his head on the doorway as they enter the room, and catches a hint of Agen's smile as Agen lowers him down onto a neatly-made bed.

“Yes,” Agen agrees gravely, like Kix can't see the flicker of humor in his dark eyes. “There's always more paperwork. It will still be there when you’ve rested, though, and most of the important parts are already filed.”

“I guess,” Kix says with bad grace, and then squawks when Agen drops to his knees and starts unbuckling his boots. “ _General_!”

“Call me Agen. Master Kolar, if you insist on being formal.” Agen glances up at him, horns and dotted tattoos catching the light, and smiles faintly. “Let me take care of you, Kix.”

It occurs to Kix, suddenly, that he can't remember ever seeing Agen smile before. And he’s been looking.

It’s hard not to, with a man like Agen Kolar.

“Agen?” he asks, caught off guard, not sure how to do otherwise, and hears Agen's quiet hum of thanks as gentle hands pull his boots off, set them aside. Agen sits back, watching Kix for a moment, and then gracefully rises to his feet, stepping over to a tiny table with a small pot and two cups on top of it.

“This will help you sleep,” he says, pouring out enough for both of them and then turning to offer Kix one of the cups. When Kix eyes it warily, Agen snorts, settling beside him on the bed and crossing his legs beneath himself. “It’s only herbs. My Master taught me to make it, to help with bad missions.”

Carefully, Kix wraps both hands around the cup, then takes a breath of the steam. It doesn’t smell unpleasantly herbal, the way he feared; instead, all he can smell are flowers, and the scent alone is enough to unspool some of the tension that’s been coiled around his spine for days now.

“Thank you,” he says, quiet, almost ragged.

Agen inclines his head. “It’s my pleasure to help you relax in any way I can,” he says, and Kix has to close his eyes against _far_ too many inappropriate images that rise. He’s…probably too tired to do any of them justice, anyway. Instead, he just takes a sip of the tea, then breathes out, and wonders why it feels like he hasn’t breathed at all since Torrent started taking fire three days ago.

“It’s good,” he says softly.

There's a touch on his shoulder, and then Agen slides back, bracing his back against the wall. He reaches out, and Kix stares at his pretty hand for a long moment, only seeing those long, clever, callused fingers for several seconds until the meaning behind the gesture strikes him. Then, startled, he jerks his head up, staring at Agen.

“Touch is a comfort among Zabraks, too,” Agen says, watching him. “I can take you back to your barracks if you’d prefer, but if touch would help right now, and you would like to keep your weariness private, I want to help you.”

Kix's throat closes, to the point that it’s hard to swallow. He’d—wanted. Wanted to go back to the bunkroom and curl up with Jesse or Fives or Echo, but—

If they’d known how scared he was, they would have known how precarious the general’s state was, and Kix _can't_ do that to them. General Skywalker is what keeps them going. They can't know he was in so much danger that Kix was barely able to keep him stable.

With a low, rough sound that’s half relief and half gratitude, Kix grabs Agen's hand, lets himself be pulled close. He curls against Agen's chest, burying his face in that long black hair, and just…clings. Lets himself need, and lets himself take, and feels Agen gently wrap an arm around him, steadying his cup with a free hand.

“Peace,” Agen says again, and those long, strong fingers curl around the back of Kix's skull, cradling. “Everything will be all right.”

Kix closes his eyes, presses in tight, and lets himself believe it.


End file.
